


Ménage à Trois

by gaialux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Multi, Sex Pollen, Threesome - F/F/F, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27694609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: Donna and Jody have tried to settle down into normal life with their girls, but hints of witches appear and they wrangle in someone for help.
Relationships: Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills, Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills/Rowena MacLeod
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13
Collections: 2020 Supernatural & CWRPF Holiday Exchange





	Ménage à Trois

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellerkay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerkay/gifts).



> Due to use of sex pollen, could be viewed as dubcon -- but the characters do very much get into it. Established Donna/Jody, throwing Rowena into the mix!

The Winchesters were far from the most reliable duo.

Actually, in Donna’s humble opinion, they were amongst the _worst_. Always out for only themselves and each other. A codependent unit of flannel and whiskey. Good to work with, sure, if you knew what you were doing and the case was cut ‘n dry, but Donna would hardly trust them with her or Jody or their girls’s lives.

But she was still the one who called them. Who listened to Dean’s gravelly voice that always seemed caught between sounding annoyed or pissed off.

“We have a problem,” Donna said. The morning cup of coffee in her hand wasn’t enough to stave off the sleep deprivation headache that was brewing behind her eyes.

“What’s it this time?”

_Smart ass._

“Something’s hanging around,” Donna said. She peaked outside where Jody was working on their garden. Bulbs of daffodils, tulips, and something Donna had forgotten the name of being put into the warming soil. Spring was blooming.

So were monsters.

“Little more detail, Donna?”

Donna wanted to reach through the phone line, grab his throat, and shake him. She should never have called. Research might not have been Donna’s strongest point -- there was a reason she stayed a police officer, taking on the role of town sheriff, rather than setting her sights on that of a detective -- but it would be a hell of a lot easier than this pulling teeth routine Dean always put her through.

“A witch, maybe,” she said. “Or--”

“More Sam’s alley,” Dean said.

“Then why don’t you be a dear and put him on?” Donna said. She chugged a huge mouthful of coffee and swallowed it down, ignoring the burning on her tongue and throat.

“Not home,” Dean said.

“Well, Dean.” Donna breathed heavily through her nose. “Could you leave a message?”

“Not sure when he’ll be back.”

Bullshit. Those two were joined at the hip.

“I can give you someone else’s number,” Dean said, a drawl creeping into his voice. Hiding the annoyance, maybe, but Donna didn’t care enough to find out.

“Yes?” She waited. Finished off her coffee. Drummed her fingers on the counter. The straightened up and crowded the phone closer to her mouth as Jody finished up her gardening and headed toward the back door. “Dean. You there?”

“I’ll give you Rowena’s number.”

Donna didn’t have the time to ask questions.

* * *

Donna sat at the table, staring at the paper in front of her. Jody and the girls were out buying more gardening supplies. Whatever Jody set her sights on she made her mission. Her police work, hunting, looking after their girls, and now she had taken on the more tranquil task of turning their house into a home.

She deserved the rest. They both did, dammit, Donna decided. All the self-sacrificing crap they had put up with. All their losses -- Jody especially. A whole family wiped out under the hand of a single monster. And Donna knew Jody blamed herself, ruminated on it, hunted all she could to save others the same fate.

It was admirable. Part of what drew Donna to her in the first place.

And even though they’d had conversation after conversation about retiring from the hunting life, or at least cutting back, that didn’t stop monsters from popping up. They were in Brandon for a reason, its crime rate low for both the natural and supernatural variety.

Except this. The creeping things that had been happening, the bump in the dark Donna would have been able to turn a blind eye on with the help of a stiff drink. She was more attuned now; they all were.

A hex bag in the attic of a nearby family was the nail in the coffin so to speak. The one that got Donna reaching out from the Winchesters.

Fat lot of good they actually did.

The numbers on the paper were blurred from Donna’s fingers running over and over them again. Almost illegible. They could be, she knew, if she waited a few more days. If she picked at it like an annoying blackhead on the tip of her nose. They’d be a black sludge she could scrunch up and toss out with the recycling next week.

Could. Should. Would.

Donna knew what she had to do.

She dialled the number, waited.

Just as she assumed it would be moving into voicemail, someone answered. "Hello?"

A lilt Scottish accent Donna imagined belonged to a young redhead. A woman who had watched too much _Charmed_ and taken on the persona of witch. Paige, maybe, or Phoebe.

It had been a little past Donna’s time but her two younger sisters had been obsessed. Always wrangled Donna into playing, and Donna was chose to be Piper.

“This is Donna Hanscum.” Too late to make up a false identity, but she had decided to trust the Winchester. A bad move; she knew that already. “Is this Rowena?”

“Aye,” she said. It sounded too natural to be a fake accent. “How did you get this number, love?”

Despite the words her tone was biting. Donna almost pulled the phone back, away from her ear, expecting a hand to reach out and try to throttle her. She didn’t know Rowena but she could already tell this wasn’t a woman to be messed with. The bigger curiosity, however, was why the Winchesters had teamed up with a witch in the first place. Witches fell under the same category as ghosts and demons as far as Donna could tell. Certainly not in the realm of angels -- who could also be dicks.

“Dean Winchester,” Donna said. A risky move, she knew. Either this Rowena The Witch would leave her with an immediate dial tone or she would be intrigued. Donna was literally crossing her fingers on the latter.

“Ah,” Rowena said. Or maybe ‘aye’ again. “They did say you would be in touch.”

“Okay,” Donna said. “Good.” She nodded to herself and the words she hadn’t even been thinking about spewed forth. A nervous tick she could never quite squash down. It had gotten her into trouble both as sheriff and as hunter. “We have trouble here in Brandon. Maybe. I think. Hard to tell witches, you know?” She laughed lightly. “Well, of course you know--”

“Myself and other witches are often not on the best of friendship terms,” Rowena said. “So what are these supposed witches doing? Offering candy to children? Having women’s book clubs?”

It took Donna an embarrassingly long time to realise Rowena was refusing to take her seriously. Had the Winchesters left out the part where Donna was a hunter? 

Of course they had.

“No,” Donna said. “Try kidnapping children.”

“And you’re sure it’s these apparent witches?” Rowena sounded so blasé it made Donna’s blood boil.

“No,” Donna bristled. “But I’m also _not_ sure, and four children have already disappeared--”

“Four children or four teenagers?” Still, Rowena’s voice remained calm and even. Donna felt hers tightening in her throat.

“Does it matter?”

“Teenage runaways are rarely the result of witches,” Rowena said. “Of anything but their own stupidity, really.”

Donna had been a runaway once upon a time. Her daughters were also runaways of various degrees, and neither of them had done it out of stupidity. _Survival_. The name of the game and Donna doubted Rowena would be open to understanding.

“Okay,” Donna said, going for a clipped rather than pissed approach and likely missing the mark entirely. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“Who says you wasted my time?” Rowena said. “Or that I wouldn’t help you?”

Typical for the Winchesters to team up with someone like _this_.

* * *

Donna and Jody had been living together for close to a year before things shifted. It was small to start with, subtle. A lingering touch when one would make the other a cup of tea (Jody) or coffee (Donna) in the morning; a heartfelt conversation over a bottle of wine, still stinking of demon sulphur, after a hunt. And then a night when Alex was out with her new friends (yay!), Netflix wasn’t showing up anything interesting, and Jody turned to Donna on the couch. Dressed in a flannel shirt that was two buttons undone, jeans that were tighter than her usual, and was that _lipstick_ coating her lips?

Donna, somehow, tasted to find out.

Yes. Lipstick. Maybe lip gloss. Heavy on the strawberry taste and scent, heavy on the stickiness, light on the colour.

Perfect for Jody.

Perfect for this night.

Only a few more weeks passed before Donna moved into Jody’s room. Nominally the master bedroom in this huge, sprawling house, though hardly bigger than Donna’s former room was. They took Jody’s bed -- a softer California King -- and Donna’s vintage dresser she picked up at a flea market for twenty dollars. Over time they bought art, a sad looking house plant, and framed family photographs of them and the girls and their loved ones from the past.

That was the first step in making their house a home.

* * *

It was over more wine that Donna spilled the beans to Jody about Rowena.

“ _What_?” Jody said. Evidently half a bottle of high shelf Cab Sav wasn’t enough to chill Jody out. Or this was bigger than something wine could cure. “You didn’t tell me?”

“I’m telling you now,” Donna said, sipping her wine and chewing her nails down to the quick in alternate beats. Not quite the cheese and grape tasting board that usually paired well with wine, but a good anxiety combination nonetheless. “And nothing’s been set in stone, nothing decided. I wanted the Winchester’s to deal with it but they--”

“The Winchesters never just ‘deal with it’,” Jody said, bitter, but not at Donna. Thankfully. Donna was worried this conversation would be that start to the end. Deep down she was still bitter herself, jaded, after her divorce. Even if life with Jody was a thousand times better and healthier than her first marriage. Monsters or no monsters.

“I know,” Donna said. “And they put me on to Rowena. She’s a witch, Jodes, I know, but from everything she’s said she's...different.”

“And you’re taking her word for it?”

Donna looked down at her wine glass, at the stained red rim. At her nails that were still stumpy, hangnails loose around all the edges, then back up at Jody. “Yes.”

Jody leaned back on the couch. Her eyes were wide. Disbelieving. Donna knew what she was thinking: that Donna was stupid, that _she_ was the one who suggested trying to take a step back from hunting, that they wanted to try an apple pie life both of them had always craved. Unconventional, sure, but true. Safe.

Family.

“If this were anywhere else,” Jody said. “Would you be following it up?”

“No,” Donna said quickly. But it was true. She no longer scrolled Facebook and local news sites looking for evidence of the supernatural. The only paper she had delivered was Brandon’s _The Citizen_ and she never went straight to the obituaries.

Jody sighed. She swirled around her wine like a connoisseur and then tossed back her head and downed the remaining half a glass in one swallow. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s meet this Rowena.”

* * *

Rowena chose the place. Donna didn’t know how she would know this area, but were witches immortal? Long lived? There were so many gaps in Donna’s knowledge of the supernatural. A lifetime missing and she could only scramble to catch up.

 _Or not_ , she told herself. They had stepped away from all this now.

The bar was quiet. One neither Jody nor Donna had visited before, but it was on their bucket list. Pass through every bar, pub, and club in South Dakota and sample their on tap beer. They ordered one each now. No Rowena in sight, though the description given by the Winchesters was vague.

“Uh, old,” Dean had said. “Like, older than Jody--”

Donna had to bite her tongue.

“Red hair. _Violent_ red. Either dresses like a slutty librarian or a vintage princess.”

Real clear, Dean.

But Donna only had a single sip of the beer -- super generic, she didn’t feel the need to try it again -- and in walked a woman. It felt like the air in the entire room was sucked toward her. This woman with perfectly curled hair falling in trussed waves over her shoulders. She was dressed in a tight black pencil skirt with a silky red blouse.

 _Slutty librarian_ in Dean’s eyes, Donna decided.

She didn’t know what sort of description Rowena had received on the two of them, but she was making a beeline right over. Seeming to glide across the floor. She sat at the table across from Jody and Donna. A smile on her plum lips.

“Hello ladies,” she said. “Beer, I see?”

Before either of them could say anything, Rowena flicked her fingers toward the barkeeper. He stopped what he was doing and came over. Listened to her order of chianti and then grinned at Jody and Donna after he went away.

“Always prefer my reds dry,” she said.

Jody was the first to get in. To get down to business and try to cut this short. Donna knew she only agreed to this meeting to oblige Donna. She had spent the past two days leading up to it avoiding the topic of conversation. Working in the garden, cooking elaborate meals, watching her old black and white drama films she knew Donna couldn’t stand.

“So you’re here to help us with a witch?” Jody said.

“A potential witch, dear,” Rowena said. The bartender returned with her rich, dark wine. Nobody else was receiving table service but somehow Rowena had made it seem natural for her. A spell? Was she bringing magic into this sleepy town when Donna wanted it gone for good?

“So you’re going to investigate first?” Jody said.

Rowena clicked her tongue. “I’m not one to get my hands too far in the muck.”

So it would be up to Donna and Jody. Great. This was why she had called the Winchesters in the first place. She wanted to turn her eyes and ears away from what was happening and let them sort the mess out.

“All witches have their own way of doing things,” Rowena said. She finished her wine and gestured the bartender over. This time a martini. Extra olive. She turned back to Donna and Jody without breaking her stride. “You can tell me a woman is skinning bunnies and devouring children and I’ll believe she is as witch as much as the little old lady down the street in the twee sweaters.”

The martini arrived in record time. Rowena sucked on her toothpick with two olives. Donna found herself having to look away.

“If you can find concrete proof,” Rowena said. “I’ll help. But until then, dears, you’re on your own.”

* * *

There was something about being in the house of a human that made this investigation that much more terrifying. Donna was used to _human_ -humans, sure. The worst of the worst. She’d even been part of the team to take down a serial killer. But witches were the cross between unreality and reality that gave her the heebie-jeebies. They could make themselves appear vulnerable or, alternatively, attack her and Jody with things they could never understand.

She was pissed at Rowena for not accompanying them.

They went through the dark front room, into a huge living area that felt cold enough for snow to fall. Shelves lined every wall and Donna stepped forward, started, fell back.

“What is it?” Jody whispered.

The words caught in Donna’s throat. She had seen many things. Disgusting, terrifying, heart-wrenching, but they could still get to her.

“Bo--” Donna swallowed. “Body parts.”

Eyes and ears and hands and feet. Some preserved in jars like a sick school science room. Others appeared mummified, dried and shrivelled and displayed as trophies.

Jody turned an unnatural shade of white and stepped closer. Two seconds, maybe, of staring before she too stepped away.

“Enough proof for you?” Donna asked.

“Yeah,” Jody said. The defeat was dripping from her voice and Donna hated herself. Hated that she brought Jody into this. “Let’s call Rowena.”

* * *

Rowena, thankfully, agreed to help.

* * *

Back in this dark, dank house. With its vials of fluid, of body parts, of herbs and spices not found in any kitchen Donna had ever encountered. The smell was stronger than before. Pungent, strong, like fruit left rotting in the sun. Donna’s family once vacationed at a caravan park near a tomato farm. This house reminded her of that and she had to breathe in, hold, to avoid the sensation of throwing up. Jody’s cringing face made Donna think she was feeling likewise.

“She doesn’t appear to be home,” Rowena said, her voice not even trying to reach a whisper.

“It’s a big house,” Jody said. Her gun was drawn, checking carefully behind every door and corner.

They moved through the house, the three of them. Past that shelf of body parts. Thankfully, no more appeared as they continued through the kitchen -- though Donna wasn't about to check the fridge -- or peaked into a small bathroom. Next, a bedroom.

“Yes, but--”

Rowena’s sentence was cut off as a door flew open. The force like a hurricane of wind, threatening to knock Donna to the ground. She stumbled, hit the wall, and looked up just in time to see the woman step into the room.

Jody grabbed the woman. A vice grip around the waist. The witch fought. Pulled. Twisted. Her teeth were bared, feral snarling emanating deep from her body. Donna kept the gun pointed at her head. Rowena hung back, seeming nonplussed, her perfectly manicured eyebrows raised but unwavering.

“Dear,” Rowena said. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Rowena, isn’t it?” The witch said. She continued to fight, breathless, chest heaving. “Going against your own kind?”

Rowena took a step forward. She raised her hand and _thank god_ , Donna thought, _she's finally being useful_. “You’re not one of my kind.”

But before anyone could do anything, the witch disappeared in a cloud of smoke like something out of a magic show. Donna was struck with a memory. Eleven years old, her father’s hand in one of hers and a head-sized stick of cotton candy in the other. Sitting in a dark audience, red velvet curtain pulled tight around a stage. Bright lights. A woman in a striking costume, cut deep up her thighs, a smile on her face and lips so red it looked like she had been drinking blood. The magician sawed her in half, sewed her back together, and then sent her into a box where smoke rose and she was gone.

The only difference was that the magician's assistant re-appeared in the crowd. This witch was nowhere to be seen.

“What just happened?” Jody said to Rowena.

“I don’t--” Rowena began, then cut off abruptly.

Or was it Donna’s ears that cut her off? This buzzing, ringing, incessant feeling that Donna couldn’t shake. She looked at Jody. At the redness rising in her cheeks and trailing down her neck. Splaying across her naked arms. And Donna couldn’t help herself. She was unsure if it was fear or something else, but she needed to be with Jody. Touching Jody. Kissing her deep and long.

And then she looked at Rowena and felt the same pull.

Rowena was gorgeous. Donna had been late into accepting her sexuality. Repressed, trying to convince herself and everyone around her she was a straight woman. Ignore the uniform. Ignore the in-your-face personality. She needed something to make her seem feminine, agreeable, a proper woman.

Donna was so fucking over it.

She kissed Rowena. Something in the back of her mind said she should have asked Jody’s permission first, but Jody was right there, too. In the thick of it. A hand twisted in Donna’s hair and a hand caressing Rowena’s face. Three made into one.

"What is this?" Donna asked. She had to force herself to get the words out. To do anything besides touch, kiss, stare at these two women.

“The best way,” Rowena said, chest heaving, breasts as flushed as the skin on her face. Donna struggled to pay attention to the words. “To move past this, is to go with it.”

Jody said, "What is _it_?"

Rowena licked her lips. "A spell, dear. To distract us. To get us all...together."

“To fuck?” Jody said.

Rowena turned to her. Donna watched the two of them, waiting for that spike of jealousy that never came.

“Yes,” Rowena said, then she closed the distance and kissed Jody square on the lips.

The voice in the back of Jody’s mind called out again. That she should be feeling jealousy. A white hot rage of a sensation that would make her want to rip Jody from Rowena’s grip. But it was far, far away at that moment. All Donna felt was arousal. Excitement. The intense need to get _involved_ but not _take away_.

Rowena was the one who gestured her over and Donna went.

She kissed differently to Jody. Less intense but just as sensual. Soft, slow, then ramping up. The taste of wine and something smoky in her breath.

Her lipstick didn’t even smudge.

It was intoxicating. All of it. It didn’t matter that Donna knew the _need_ came from whatever the witch had thrown on them. Everything felt real, raw, a craving that was impossible to ignore.

Jody was touching her. The fingers she had learnt so well over the past year. How she would start as a tickle, a ghosting, but quickly move into what Donna always thought of as a massage. Getting into the muscles. Leaving her mark and curing Donna of everything that ailed her.

Their clothes became a pile on the floor. Rowena’s sweet pink dress the colour of cotton candy, Jody’s khaki jacket, Donna’s jeans that made her ass look _great_ . None of that mattered. The clothes stifled Donna. Off, off, _off_. It was all that mattered right then.

But once it was done, it wasn’t enough. Her brain would not switch off, the pulsing between her legs would not give way. What had this witch done? _Where_ was this witch? Questions floating but fuzzy, far away, and Rowena was lying back on the bed. Jody touching her.

The world -- what was important in it at least -- started and ended at this bed they had now tumbled onto. Silky blue sheets like the ocean, taking Donna and holding her safe and ready and willing.

Donna parted Rowena’s legs and dove in. Rowena’s hands twisting immediately into her hair. Looking up, that perfect view Donna always adored with Jody, she was met with two pairs of eyes. Jody’s hands on Rowena’s breasts. Rowena with a sly, spit-slick smile pulling at her lips. 

The taste was amazing. So much stronger than Donna was used to. Was this part of whatever spell the witch had put on them? Part of Rowena’s own spellwork? Donna didn’t care. She was transfixed.

Rowena urged her harder, faster. A hand in Donna’s hair guiding her through the moves. How old was this woman? How much experience did she have? Was she even a lesbian? Questions always flooded Donna’s mind during sex and she was impossible to quiet them. A lesson, maybe, from her married days of lying back and thinking of England.

Jody was down beside her now. Tongue mingling in both Rowena’s pussy and Donna’s mouth. Rowena was moaning. Clenching. Jody’s hand on Donna’s crotch. Fingers playing through the fabric of her underwear. Too many layers. Donna wanted them _off_.

“Do it, dear,” Rowena said.

Donna pulled away and stared. “Can you--”

Rowena waved a hand. “Snippets here and there. This spell the witch put on us comes with...additional powers for me.”

And without Donna’s conscious thought -- or maybe with a little off it -- she found herself thinking: _I want you both to fuck me. So bad._

Rowena said, “Go ahead.”

Jody, impossibly, knew what to do as well. Both her and Rowena reposition themselves to be in front of Donna. This was every fantasy, every dream Donna didn’t know she had, laid out for her on a silver platter. Or at least a seafoam coloured bed which, arguably, was even better.

Fingers, mouths, the view of these two women down there. Donna was torn between wanting to close her eyes, to drink it in, to take some sort of snapshot behind her lids, and needing to catch every movement. As it turned out, she didn’t have the time to decide.

The crescendo of orgasm built and spilled from Donna. She couldn’t help but cry out. Her thighs shaking, stomach clenching, vision swimming and narrowing in on only Jody and Rowena. These two beautiful, sexy women who have just made her feel so good.

As she came down, the buzzing went with it. Her eyes and ears and even a _taste_ were fading away. They were in a bedroom. The one they had entered how long ago now? Belonging to the witch -- or at least her victim. She was still nowhere to be seen. The cloud of smoke had been a portal to somewhere and, for all Donna knew, the witch was states away. _Countries_ away.

Jody and Rowena were still here, though, and that was the important part. Jody languidly stroking her clit and Donna joined in. Crooking a finger up inside to help her girlfriend along.

When Jody came, it was like stars fell. Like every romance a young Donna had read and expected sex and relationships to be. Brain exploding. Brain _clearing_. Now the world was back.

Now things appeared as they truly were.

“What--” Donna started.

Rowena pressed a finger to her lips. “Enjoy it, dear. Answers come later.”

Somehow, it sounded like a good idea.


End file.
